


many times, many ways

by mimizans



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimizans/pseuds/mimizans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a Christmas miracle occurs and Alexander Hamilton goes to bed at a reasonable hour. Well, almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	many times, many ways

**Author's Note:**

> my new motto is "be the sweet alexander/eliza fic you want to see in the world." so here i am

“Alexander,” Eliza says, impatience creeping into her voice. She’s standing in the doorway of his study in her pajamas, her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s past midnight. Please come to bed.”

Alexander sighs and rubs at his eyes, his over-bright computer screen glaring at him accusingly. “I need to finish this speech, Betsey.” He’s been reworking the last two pages for an hour, and he just can’t seem to get the phrases right. This kind of writer’s block happens to him maybe once a year, and he’s endlessly thankful it doesn’t happen more often. Doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when he’s erasing sentence after imperfect sentence, though. 

He hears Eliza sigh. “The speech will still be here in the morning,” she assures him, stepping into the room. “And maybe a good night’s sleep is just the thing you need to help you finish it.” She comes to rest on the arm of his chair, her warm body pressed against his side and her head laid carefully on top of his. 

Alexander closes his eyes briefly and lets his hands fall into his lap. “I’m never in bed on time,” he says quietly.

“No, you’re not,” Eliza agrees, reaching out to take one of his hands, which are achy and stiff from typing all day. He groans when she begins press her small, strong fingers against his knuckles. “You work too hard,” she says. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to burn out and have to retire at 40.”

“A horrifying thought,” he replies, and feels her lips shift into a smile against his forehead. 

Alexander realizes that he’s almost always fought Eliza on this point. He can’t count the times she’s asked to him to come to bed and he’s refused, insisting that there was just no way he could go to sleep and that he absolutely had to finish his work that night. She would kiss his cheek and go to bed by herself, her mouth drawn into the tiniest frown, and Alexander would keep working for another hour or two, finally stumble into bed and Eliza’s warm arms, and then get up at dawn and do the whole thing over again the next day. And Alexander has always been fine with that. He has goals, and he has plans, and he can’t reach the future he wants without hard work. He’ll do whatever it takes to get where he’s going. And Eliza is always so patient with him, so understanding and so kind. He thinks about all the nights he’s left Eliza to fall asleep alone because he was too busy to be with her. He wishes, abruptly, that he could have some of those nights back.

Alexander can see the lights of the Christmas tree in the living room reflected in his study window, twinkling softly against the backdrop of snow outside. His feet are cold even in thick socks, and he thinks about how warm it will be under the covers of their bed, Eliza pressed close to him and radiating heat like a furnace. She’s terrible to sleep next to during July, but in December Alexander clings to her. He thinks about the children asleep upstairs, burrowed into their covers like little animals, quiet and still. He feels Eliza leaning against him now, her eyelashes fluttering against his forehead, and he wraps an arm around her waist.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says. 

Eliza lifts her head slowly and peers down at him. “Really?” she asks, and he feels badly when he hears the genuine surprise in her voice. 

“Yes, really,” Alexander replies, leaning up to kiss her softly. “It’s too cold down here. And you’re right, the speech will still be here in the morning.”

“I’m usually right, you know,” Eliza says, watching as he closes his laptop.

“Yes, you are,” Alexander says as he rises from his chair, Eliza still perched on the arm. “What would I do without you?” he asks, brushing his fingers over her cheek and watching the way the light reflected from the windows makes her dark eyes shine.

“Freeze to death in your study,” Eliza replies.

“Probably,” Alexander says with a laugh, reaching out and gently pulling Eliza up and towards him until they’re pressed together, his hands resting on her hips. Eliza presses as close to him as she can, snakes her arms around his neck and pushes her fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers against her ear. “I love you. I wouldn’t be able to do what I do without you.” He slides his hands up the back of her shirt and feels her shiver, whether from his cold hands or from his touch he’s not sure. “You’re essential to me. Like air.”

“Like breathing,” Eliza echoes, her breath gusting against his neck and her hands tightening in his hair.

“Yes,” Alexander says. 

Eliza kisses the juncture of his neck and shoulder and then trails her lips upwards, ghosting kisses up his neck and towards his jaw.

“Betsey,” he says, for no other reason than that he wants to say her name, to hear it spill from his lips and hang in the room.

“My Alexander,” she says breathlessly, finally reaching his mouth and pressing a kiss to his bottom lip, followed by a gentle bite.

Alexander shivers. “We, uh, don’t have to go to sleep _right_ now, do we?” he asks with a sly smile, letting his hands fall to her hips and slipping them underneath the waistband of her pajama pants. He moves his thumbs in slow wide circles, inching them infinitesimally closer to the juncture of her thighs. 

Eliza shakes her head rapidly.

“Oh, good,” Alexander says, and backs her up against his bookcase.

As he drops to his knees, he catches a glimpse of lights sparkling in the window, and the shining snow on the darkened street beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> and then he eats out his wife, amen & hallelujah


End file.
